Monochrome Nights
by Carys Langley
Summary: AU, Sebastian x Ciel, For fun, Detective Sebastian Michaels flirts with the wrong side of the law...and for some unreasonable reason, Ciel Phantomhive finds himself flirting right back.
1. I Chapter: The Meeting

**Monochrome Nights**

[AU, Sebastian x Ciel] For fun, Detective Sebastian Michaels flirts with the wrong side of the law...and for some reason, the charming Earl Ciel Phantomhive finds himself flirting right back.

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**A/N:** I was so happy to see a Kuroshitsuji Section on FFnet. I wrote this right after the Jack the Ripper arc ended, and I haven't had the excuse to post it. It would have just gotten lost under the MISC section. But anyway...Kuroshitsuji is such an amazing work that it's great to see the section growing! Here's my little contribution. Hope you all like!!

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**I Chapter**

**The Meeting**

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Sebastian Michaels was the toast of Parisian aristocracy. Although no one could quite discern where he came from, or how his common job gave him so much money, in fact, the society that practically worshiped him on bended knees knew preciously little about him—if anything at all. He kept to himself, mostly in a secluded barony far from the rest of the wealthy and civilized. In fact, he lived on the more dilapidated side of town—to put it politely, and this felt like a slap in the face to just some of his admirers.

But regardless, where he resided never did put a damper on Sebastian's awe-inspiring charm. He rarely made any appearances in public, except when his job as a capable private investigator drew him into the limelight. Sebastian Michaels was also the toast of Paris for his sharp wits...and even more unorthodox methods, the most ambiguous cases came to him, even Sherlock Holmes came to consult with him once...and ever since, those belonging to Scotland Yard hadn't been able to hold their heads up so high.

Still, no one questioned his methods, there were whispers of this and that...but no one ever said anything, because Sebastian Michaels kept the wardens busy, and their prisons were never for want of convicts. Sebastian was obviously adequate enough in his own eccentric ways, and no one was any wiser to question him.

Though when it came to his social dealings, criticism swept around all of Paris like a mad, ravaging storm. For one thing, it wouldn't kill Sebastian Michaels to come out once in a while and pay a round of proper calls. It certainly would not have hurt him any to actually take proper callers once in a while. And of course, it didn't suit the ladies any that Sebastian was one of the most eligible bachelors in the whole of Paris...who just happened to be devilishly handsome. Countless women drowned in his dark fathomless eyes and none wanted to be rescued.

The fact that he was getting to be twenty-five without a woman on his arm worried a lot of people.

And Sebastian Michaels was helplessly _odd._ His estate wasn't particularly large, but money was never a problem for him, and for the most part, he lived alone. No one knew for sure how many people shared the Michaels Manor, but the popular consensus concluded as of late that he employed one maid, and one butler. As legend deemed, he also kept a white wolf that ate human limbs from the morgue.

No one knew why, exactly. Everyone just knew that the detective Michaels was helplessly odd and lost to them.

But every year on Midsummer's Night, it was tradition for Sebastian Michaels to throw open his doors to the entire city and throw a Grand Masquerade...it was something like his apology for shunning his roots, and the apology was always wildly welcomed.

And the biggest mystery of them all, was how exactly that the ever resourceful Detective Michaels could have ever manage to fit all of the Parisian elite in his humble abode.

--

To put it briefly...and bluntly—Earl Ciel Phantomhive hated Paris and the city's professed love for fuss and feathers. Although, quite on the contrary, his Aunt Angelina—or Madame Red, as she liked to be called, was right at home in France. She had dragged him along because she always had, although technically, since his sixteenth birthday had already passed, he was no longer his ward. He could return to his own estate, and never give Madame Red the time of the day.

But still...perhaps because some part of Madame Red embodied the mother that he had never had the fortune to know well, he paid her enough mind to make this pilgrimage with her, and her sometimes Chinese lover, Lau. You could never tell, really, they were always bickering about something or another, and Ciel didn't think they knew that they sounded like an old married couple.

Admittedly, Lau was more bearable on this trip, maybe because he'd never been to France, and the legends that he had collected about French women from all over had him drifting on cloud nine—even before they left. Madame Red, as suspected, was not too happy about that.

And then...there was the problem of Lizzy, better known to the rest of the world as Lady Elizabeth Middleford-Phantomhive...well, technically, the second part of her last name wasn't quite official yet, but a wedding date had been tentatively set for next spring, his aunt had even consulted a fortune teller about it, and concluded that April was the couple's lucky month.

Ciel, to tell the truth, liked Lizzy, he considered her an important friend, and he had heard many stories from Madame Red how she had refused to leave his side the night his parents died in the fire. Of course, Ciel was much too young to remember...or perhaps he had no wish to remember something so horrible.

But he could only stand Lizzy for a set amount of time all at once, after that, she drove him crazy. And spending two months with her in Paris at the request of her mother was certainly not high on his list of priorities at the moment, much to everyone's disappointment but Ciel's.

In the end, he wished he had stayed home, safe in his little sanctuary of sanity. As that was longer a possibility, however, Ciel was stuck in the Parisian whirlwind of fuss and feathers, and after a fortnight of attending party after party, he was wiped, while his companions, Lau, Madame Red, and Lizzy looked as ready as ever to take on the world.

Ciel couldn't help but groan when he realized that Lizzy was waving a cream colored envelope in front of him. "Lizzy, tell Madame I'm not going. I'm dead on my feet, and surely the three of you can somehow manage to get on without my presence for one evening."

Her lips turned into a pink pout. "But Ci-el, I won't have a respectable dance partner that way. And besides, we announced our engagement already, and it'd be scandalous if I arrive sans partner. Even Auntie has Lau, you know."

...Respectable dance partner...if she only knew. Lizzy had yet to realize how clumsy her fiancé really was on his feet, but she was always too busy like a frittering butterfly to notice. A small blessing on his part.

Ciel looked away, "I wonder about that. He's been wandering as of late, and his returning hours are always suspicious. But I don't think Madame cares--" He shook his head, "Anyway, that's not the point, the point is, that it's not going to be scandalous if you said that I was unable to attend due to illness."

Lizzy planted her hands on her hips, "But that'd be _lying_."

"All for a good cause." He fiddled with the large sapphire ring on his thumb. The jewel bore a large crack in the middle, and Lizzy always voiced her complaints about how unsightly it was. He bore the complaints in silence, because it was the only trinket that had survived in the fire...and he couldn't bring himself to repair it, or throw it away. To him, it was dishonor to the Phantomhive name to alter the family's most sacred heirloom.

"_Ciel_--"

"I'm not going."

She looked at him helplessly, "Please? It's one of the most celebrated parties of the year! No one misses Sebastian Michael's Grand Masquerade!"

Sebastian Michaels. Now, Ciel looked up with mild interest.

Ciel Phantomhive had keen ears in all parts of Europe, he had to, else, there would have been no other way to recover after the tragedy. Having the right information at the right time, however, was a great advantage, and now the Phantom Company flourished largely because Ciel knew things he wasn't supposed to know. Sebastian Michaels, he knew by hearsay, was a genius detective with eccentric tastes.

But he also had ears everywhere, and Ciel was eager to take some of the ears for himself. If only for that... "The Grand Masquerade is tonight?"

"Well, of course." She said dismissively, "If it was something trivial I wouldn't have asked..." Then her voice grew softer, "I know you don't really want to be here..."

Now Ciel just felt guilty. But this Sebastian Michaels character certainly had captured his attention, since even the great Sherlock Holmes, Scotland Yard's pride and joy, had paid him tribute.

Putting on a resigned air, Ciel got up and brushed imaginary dust from his trousers, "Fine, fine, I'll go. But you have to promise me that we'll leave early." Before she could whine some more, Ciel added in a voice that left no argument, "I've got a splitting headache."

--

The retainer of the Michaels Manor had one name that wasn't quite a name. Like his master, no one had the slightest idea where the Undertaker came from, or why Sebastian chose to call him such. They were quite a pair, the both of them, and a popular legend around town that it was the Undertaker that personally prepared stolen limbs in the basement. A less popular rumor—but still a rumor nonetheless, stated that he also practiced demon summoning in the basement.

Whatever the truths might have been, it was reached without argument that Sebastian Michael's basement was a fearsome place.

The Undertaker was proud of the gossip that he had inspired around town, and most of the time, wore a pleasantly twisted grin to show for it. He hummed tunelessly to himself as he gingerly examined a thin black mask, deemed the choice unsatisfactory, and bent to pick up another. This one with a dark blue velvet, with sequins.

"I like this one." said The Undertaker.

"Then take it." A bored voice, as velvety as the mask he held in his hands, provided the answer for him, "That, and whatever else you want. I don't care."

The Undertaker allowed himself a small smirk, "Why so generous?" He drew out the last word, lavishing the syllables like some delectable truffle, "It's not like you."

"I'm bored. That's all. The preparations are compete for this evening, I suppose?"

"Of course they are." The Undertaker shrugged one shoulder, "How could you expect anything less of me, _Master_?"

The shadow hidden in the corner wore a noticeable wince.

The Undertaker just smiled, "But you're bored...I understand that, humans are such fickle things, aren't they?"

This time, Sebastian returned his smile was one of his own, it had a noticeable edge to it, like a cat waiting to pounce. "I suppose so."

--

"Young Master, are you about ready to go?" Finian—affectionately, or more irritably—Finny poked his head in the door and promptly did a double take. "...Y-y-young Master?"

Ciel whirled from the mirror and shot him a death glare. "If you value your life, you don't want to ask any questions." But granted, while dressed in a frilly—thing didn't help him look threatening at all. Lizzy had insisted on him wearing it, since "it was in fashion" and "everyone else dressed like this." Also, that he was going to cause her embarrassment because she couldn't keep her fiancé up with the latest fashions.

Finny raised an eyebrow, "...All right then, if you say so, I'll bring the carriage around."

Ciel sighed as the door closed, and he could have sworn he heard Finny's sunny laughter down the hall. He gave the silk hat on his head a savage tug to straighten it, if he was going to be in for a long miserable evening, he might as well look halfway presentable for it.

--

As Finny slowed the carriage to a halt in front of a modest, but still imposing looking mansion, Ciel wished that he could disappear. He was adorned in a pink mask that matched Lizzy's pink one (except hers had feathers) and that saved him some minute embarrassment, but still...

"Ciel, come on, we're already late! Auntie and Lau are already here!" Lizzy tugged excitedly at his arm, "And you look very fashionable, so you don't have a thing to worry about. Besides, all of the top nobles in all of Paris are going to be present, it'd be good for the company too..."

Ciel just shook his head, "Lizzy, I think I've made it very clear that I don't want to be here. There's a reason why I don't do much business in Paris...let's just go." He took her hand and hopped off the coach. He gave Finny a dismissive wave.

"Come back for us at ten."

Lizzy clutched his arm as the two of them started up the winded path to the mansion, where they were greeted by a ghoul-like man with a wide twisted smile, like he couldn't get certain parts of his mouth to function properly. He wore a dark mask, and leered at them.

"You must be the Earl Phantomhive." he stated simply as he opened the door wider.

Ciel narrowed his eyes, "...You know who I am?"

"Why, but of course...my Master makes it a habit to know everyone." The man chuckled oddly, "It's a rather annoying habit if I do say so myself."

Ciel looked at him, he was sure he couldn't look too imposing under a pink mask, but still, he tried. "I can imagine. Come, Lizzy." And swept past the man, with Lizzy in tow.

--

Splendidly handsome as always, Sebastian Michaels still managed to move throughout the crowds, as invisible as a shadow. He wore a plain black mask that covered the right side of his face, and it was simply amazing how even with only one eye and half a vague smile, he could still make women swoon the way they did.

This year's Grand Masquerade, he admitted privately to himself, was outwardly a great success, but the people who had scurried to attend this year were beyond _dull_. There was simply no one that caught his interests...although the blessed multitudes of young single baronesses and duchesses tried.

He weaved his way fluidly through the waltzing crowd, and Sebastian found his eyes inexplicably glued to a young couple meandering about to the music. The boy was clumsy on his feet, and the pink mask he was wearing was not one he wore well.

After the waltz's final note faded away, the crowd dispersed, and Sebastian heard the girl say to the young noble in a breathless soprano, "I think I have to go refresh myself, Ciel? You'll excuse me?"

"I'd have to, wouldn't I?" Was the answer that the girl received for her pains. But she didn't seem too worried as she rustled her skirts and hurried away.

Sebastian leaned quietly against the wall. London's miracle boy and his fiancée. Even if the young earl tried hard to make himself socially scarce...

"I'll have you know." A voice cut into his thoughts, "I hate it when people laugh at me."

It was the voice from before, Ciel Phantomhive. He had ripped off his mask, and he looked mildly annoyed. Sebastian just looked at him.

"I wasn't laughing." Sebastian said.

"Yes, you were."

Sebastian took a small sip from the glass he was holding, it held a clear liquid, but it wasn't water, since it was distinctly bitter on his tongue. "And so what if I was?"

"I told you. I hate it." Then Ciel added, "Detective Sebastian Michaels. Did you honestly think I wouldn't know who you were?" His lips spread into a thin smirk, "Holmes gave me an earful about you."

"Quite the contrary, but I must say, I"m disappointed. I hold Detective Holmes in the highest esteem."

Ciel rolled his eyes, "That's certainly not what he told me."

"Ah?" Sebastian looked to his glass for answers it did not hold, "Well...it was raining on the day of our meeting. Perhaps the foul weather dampened his mood?"

"Your sense of humor is beyond me, Detective." Ciel gave him a hard stare, "If you excuse me, I see Lizzy looking for me."

Sebastian watched him go, walking away with a haughty stroll that he was too young to possess. Perhaps all humans were not so desperately fickle. Although the Undertaker would have certainly disagreed just for the sake of disagreeing.


	2. II Chapter: Helplessly Odd

**Monochrome Nights**

[AU, Sebastian x Ciel] For fun, Detective Sebastian Michaels flirts with the wrong side of the law...and for some reason, the charming Earl Ciel Phantomhive finds himself flirting right back.

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**A/N:** Holy moley!! 26 Reviews!! I think that's the most I've ever gotten on a single chapter...and for Kuroshitsuji too, since it's a smallish fandom just starting out, I didn't expect so many of you to read it. But thank you guys so, so much for proving me wrong with 500+ hits. I actually wasn't planning on finishing this chapter until maybe sometime next week? But wow. I love you guys, and I hope this chapter meets expectations, I had lots fun writing it!

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**II Chapter**

**Helplessly Odd**

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Ciel was griping, that much Elizabeth could tell, as she expertly maneuvered several layers of lacy skirts through the crowd, bearing a small slender glass three quarters of the way full with a pale sparkling green. The nice server had told her it was crushed mint leaves with lemonade, and it was a refreshing drink. And she was glad that she had brought it, by Ciel's expression, a refreshment was definitely what he needed--

"Lizzy." She felt his grip, cold and firm on her wrist, the one holding her skirts, "I'm leaving."

Elizabeth started, and hurried to keep up as Ciel dragged off to a corner, it took a lot not to spill lemonade from the glass. "Wait, what? Ciel, we can't just leave! We've barely even arrived!"

Ciel let go of her and ripped off his mask. "I don't care. I'm leaving anyway. My headache is getting worse."

She looked at him critically, "You just want to leave."

Ciel gave her a stern look, "I told you I had a splitting headache even before we came, Lizzy." His sigh was an irritated one as he turned away from her, "It's almost ten, anyway, and Finny's due any minute. You don't have to come with me; go back the Madame, if you wish."

Undeterred, Elizabeth pressed, because she was a well-groomed socialite of one of the most powerful families in London, her base instincts told her that she would be making a sordid mistake if she allowed the only surviving Phantomhive leave _the_ Grande Masquerade without any fight! As if Ciel wasn't odd enough already.

"But it's going to look very strange if you leave and I didn't. Here, maybe this can make you feel better." Elizabeth handed him the glasses.

"Why do care so damn much about appearances, Elizabeth?" Her given name rolled off his tongue like a smooth blade of a knife. It made her wince, because usually when Ciel addressed her so properly, it meant that , "As far as I am concerned, I've already fulfilled my end of the bargain tenfold." Although he took the glass and tentatively sipped at it. It wasn't bad.

Elizabeth bit her lip, "_Ciel_--"

"Stop it, all right? I don't want to hear any excuses." Ciel rubbed his temple with one hand, "Stay and socialize, you don't do nearly enough of that, and it's going to be good for you, Lizzy, I'm tired, so I'm just going back to the villa to rest."

Her expression was a concerned one, "Are you really ill?"

Ciel shrugged, "Probably." Seeing how she wavered, he was quick to add, sealing off any argument that she could have made, "But it's nothing a proper night's rest wouldn't take care of. I'll be as good as new tomorrow."

The orchestra was tuning again, and Ciel saw that the couples were assembling on the dance floor again. There were several men sans partners lingering along the sidelines. He gave his fiancée a gentle shove.

"Go on, and don't worry about me." He managed a vague half smile, in spite of the prickling veins in his head. "...I'm sure Baron Verona would be very eager to claim you for a dance. You do look stunning." Only because he had forgotten to compliment her on her gown earlier.

It made all the difference. The concern didn't leave her eyes, but she smiled at him and kissed him chastely on the cheek before she rustled off to the dance floor, only to be swept away by one of the men, he wasn't quite sure who. And he wasn't quite sure why, but something told him that he should feel jealous, but didn't. Maybe it was just as the headache.

"Goodnight, Ciel."

--

In all honesty, the Undertaker didn't know what to make of his master's earlier order, before the doors were officially thrown open as an invitation for chaos. He had outdone himself this time, if he said so himself. Sebastian liked his mansion clean and spotless, and simple, but just for tonight, Tonight, under Sebastian's orders, the Undertaker had read Bram Stoker's Dracula six times from the front cover to the back and turned the Michaelis Manor into Dracula's castle.

Of course, the Undertaker could have easily turned it into something else, but he was indebted to Sebastian and thus, as odd as the man's whims were, the Undertaker met them. Just like fact that Sebastian Michaelis met the fact that he was _odd_, over and over again. And sometimes, even though the Undertaker had seen too much of many worlds to think of anything as odd...the single command that he had been given tonight was---for the lack of a more eloquent word?--odd.

"_Keep an eye on young Phantomhive for me, won't you?" _

_The question had been asked so casually that the Undertaker had to pause, and look towards the man settled comfortably in his armchair of a throne. He didn't like it when Sebastian asked him something like that, because the Undertaker could never tell if he was serious. After all, Sebastian was an egotistic man, for the time being, and he seldom asked about other people. _

"_Phantomhive?" he had asked, with a raise of one brow, "You mean the boy visiting from London with his Aunt? Of all people..." _

_Sebastian had given him a look, and took a sip of his tea. It was customary for Sebastian to take his afternoon tea at precisely four in the after noon, and it had to be Earl Grey tea with just a hint of lime and cinnamon. The Undertaker thought he was picky about these things, but Sebastian liked to think that he was just organized and orderly, and had everything under control._

"_Have I ever done something so outrageous that you wouldn't expect?" _

"_Well...of course, but...Phantomhive?" _

"_Why not Phantomhive?" _

_The Undertaker shrugged one bony shoulder as he refilled his master's teacup, "In all honesty? Because he's barely sixteen, and he's engaged, and he's English. And he's loyal to Holmes. The odds are heavily against you, detective." _

_Sebastian had smirked a catlike smirk, "But you're here with me, Undertaker." _

"_I'm glad you have so much faith in me, master." The Undertaker wore a thin smirk of his own. _

_This time, the other man said nothing._

"_But it is, as my master wishes." _

--So he was here now, skulking within arm's reach of the young Phantomhive, who had taken advantage of the flurry that the start of a new set of Viennese Waltzes afforded him. For someone who was so clumsy on his feet, he was really rather nimble while he was running away.

"_And under no circumstances is he to leave without my knowing." _

And the Undertaker had to wonder why Sebastian even bothered to ask him something like that, Sebastian knew, whether or not the Undertaker felt it was necessary to tell him or not. When on the hunt, he was as avid as any hawk, watching his prey without watching.

Phantomhive had reached the door, grasped the handle.

"I'm disappointed, Earl Phantomhive, I'd thought the English would have better manners, _non_?"

The Undertaker pressed himself tightly against the wall, next to a gargoyle who leered menacingly at the wide hallway. Sebastian stood there, towering over young Phantomhive with his smirk that made legions of ladies swoon—but the only slight drawback here was that young Phantomhive was no lady.

He wasn't close enough to see the earl's exact expression, but by the venomous bite that seemed too earnest for so young a voice, he guessed it wasn't pretty.

"...As far as manners go, I think the French are even more atrocious than the English, Detective Michaelis."

"And why is that, Ciel?" If anything, Sebastian sounded wholly amused. Like a cat watching a cornered rat.

"My name is Phantomhive, detective. Address me properly, if at all." Phantomhive's knuckles turned white from clutching the door handle, "I didn't think the proper host would go through so much to personally stalk their guests. I"m feeling unwell, so I'm retiring early."

"Alone?"

"Lizzy wanted to stay, and I said she could." young Phantomhive's gaze dropped to the marble tiles. Despite himself, the Undertaker smirked. "Not that it's any of your business." He hastily added, as if he had almost forgotten.

"But of course." Sebastian's voice was silky smooth, like a bowl of sweet cream. "You must be very much in love with her."

"Whether I am or not, that is also none of your business whatsoever." The boy set his chin stubbornly. "I'm going, if you'll excuse me--"

"I most certainly will not." And his master's answer made the Undertaker double over in silent laughter, clutching the gargoyle for support,

"I _said_ I was feeling unwell--"

"And that's no excuse for you to refuse a walk with me." So saying, Sebastian unhooked his thin mask and laid it on the small porcelain end table next to the coat rack with a mountain of coats on it. "If you're suffering from a headache, I daresay fresh night air will do you good."

"I--"

Sebastian proceeded to pluck the boy's coat off the rack from him, a lovely affair of dark fur and a white wolf ruff. "Come now, it's not good for the future Lady Phantomhive to do all the socializing, you shouldn't be so dependent upon her."

"So you _have_ been stalking me." Phantomhive grumbled, but he let Sebastian help him into the coat. "I thought you would be better than that."

"Well, I'm not." Sebastian's grin was a triumphant one. "Come on."

--

There was something wrong with all this. As far as Ciel could tell, the Grande Masquerade was _the_ party of the year, and the streets were still because everyone in upperscale Paris was currently making merry in the Michaelis Manor, while the master of the house longed to escape from it? It made no sense, but something told Ciel that Sebastian Michaelis was a man of contradictions, no matter how many excuses he made.

But then Ciel remembered that the Michaelis Manor wasn't really on the glamorous side of town, because the sidewalks had cracks in them, and the houses they passed grew more dilapidated by the street. He saw an old beggar woman hunched over, and there was an uneven hump on her back. Her face was pallid and wrinkled in too many places, although her hands with their slender fingers told Ciel that she was still a young woman.

Unconsciously, he stepped closer to Sebastian—Detective Michaelis.

"She has children, five of them." The older man's breath tickled his ears warmly, and Ciel almost winced. "And all of them are starving, and I think one is dead."

The image of the hunchback woman surrounded by five starving children—and possibly one dead child, was a thought that filled Ciel's mouth with bile. He shivered. "That's disgusting." He sounded almost as bitter as his mouth tasted.

"Is it?"

"Of course it is."

"But she can't help it, you see." Sebastian continued, as if Ciel's answer meant nothing to him, since it probably didn't. "She used to be a rich woman, richer than I am now, but she wasted her gold and silver on her three husbands. She thought she loved them all, but they did not love her. They beat her."

Ciel looked up at him, "It _is_ disgusting." He articulated stubbornly, shoving gloved hands into his pockets.

"But it's _real_, Phantomhive, it's more tangible than the stupid Masquerade I have the misfortune to host every year. This is real life, and that woman, even though she has suffered many hardships, she has seen more of the world than any baron or viscount. Is it still disgusting?"

For a moment, Ciel was shocked into silence, "...Why would you say something like that?"

"Because it's true, Phantomhive."

Ciel turned, the hobbling woman was long gone. "But I better she has never been to London."

"And it doesn't matter. Poverty there is just as real as the poverty here in Paris." Sebastian assured him. "Without all the jewels and all the fuss and feathers, Phantomhive, this is the haven that the wealthy have created for themselves, in the stead of this harsh reality which the woman embodies. The world that you live in isn't real."

"And this is?" Fresh air might have been helping his headache, but being in Sebastian Michaelis' company was refuting the cure wonderfully. Ciel could have sworn the pounding in his head just got worse.

"Who knows?"

Ciel shoved the questions away and kept his eyes on the nearest crack in the sidewalk as they continued on. He grabbed for the nearest excuse that he could find and clung to it like a protective amulet. "Well, I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised, Holmes did tell me you were hopelessly odd."

Thankfully, Sebastian said nothing else after that.

--

"Why are we going this way?" Ciel questioned, as his curiosity got better of him. They were back on Sebastian's property, but instead of just going through the front door, the other man had lead him through a complicated maze around the back of the manor, where there was a small trapdoor hidden beneath a bed of thin green moss.

"Because I'd rather not make a scene by waltzing through the front door—not that you could waltz, Phantomhive."

Ciel bit his lip and glared at him, "I resent that."

"But it's true, isn't it?"

Ciel said nothing. He watched as Sebastian bent and extracted a small key from his pocket. A sudden chill crawled up his spine. He wasn't the type to listen to rumors, but the stories that had circulated around Paris regarding Sebastian Michaelis' cellar---

"Are we going through you cellar?"

"My cellar is very clean. Don't worry."

Ciel was not convinced, "Do you keep a wolf in your cellar?" He pressed.

Sebastian just gave him a look, "Don't you know it's illegal in any European country to keep any exotic animals on private property, Phantomhive?"

"I have a hard time believing that you're an upstanding, law-abiding citizen, even if you carry a government title." Ciel crossed his arms. "I'm not going into your cellar."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, "Honestly...well, if it's any comfort to you, Pluto's somewhere in Austria, he won't be back until the end of the month."

No, it certain was not any comfort to Ciel that there was wolf on the loose somewhere in Austria, he did business there. But at least...there was no wolf waiting to maul him in the cellar. That was a little bit better.

"You go first, then."

--

As he had promised, Sebastian's cellar was indeed spotless and clean, and there was nothing in it but a few boxes of aging wine. Perhaps it was lucky that Angela had begged a holiday off of him, and since she was so fond of Pluto, he had consented, the condition being that she had to take extra precautions. Pluto was amusing enough, but things had gotten dull without him as of late (although Sebastian Michaelis was more admittedly a cat person.)

But as he had expected, Ciel Phantomhive was proving to be quite the distraction. He knew he had been right when he had thought to himself that the boy wasn't the run of the mill wealthy aristocrat...if Ciel Phantomhive could be considered that at all. He stopped to watch the boy try to shrug off his coat.

"Stop laughing at me." At last, the boy untangled himself from the complicated fastenings and glared at him.

"I'm not laughing."

The boy just glared some more.

Sebastian walked to him and settled a hand atop the boy's head, and as expected, Ciel swatted his hand away and took a few steps away from him.

"As I thought, you're endlessly entertaining, I like you, Phantomhive."

The boy stood there, as if he didn't know how to receive the new information bestowed upon him. Finally, he tipped his head, and said as proud as any noble, in a voice that bore no tremble, although the deep blues of his eyes told Sebastian that he was afraid.

"And you're still hopelessly odd, Detective."

Sebastian smiled at him, a tolerant smile, because he was a boy who didn't know any better, "Criminals are odd, you have to be a little bit odd if you wish to catch them."

"I think it's horrible."

Sebastian's lips twitched. "Of course you would." And then he turned, because he had picked up a rustle of a footstep. And indeed, right there against the wall, was a manically giggling Undertaker. He sighed.

"If you insist on eavesdropping, you might as well make yourself useful and bring us some refreshments. You will find us in the small sitting room next to my study."

Still giggling, the Undertaker went.

The boy, who wore a frown while watching the scene, crossed his arms, "I don't want refreshments."

"You shall have some anyway." Sebastian said with a dismissive wave, "Really, try not to be such a disagreeable guest, I'm trying my best."

"I'm hardly a guest." Ciel grumbled, as he picked at the white ruff on his coat, "It's more like you holding me hostage, Detective."


	3. III Chapter: Scarlet Letter

**Monochrome Nights**

[AU, Sebastian x Ciel] For fun, Detective Sebastian Michaels flirts with the wrong side of the law...and for some reason, the charming Earl Ciel Phantomhive finds himself flirting right back.

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**A/N:** So yeah, I know I'm very, very late as far as updating this chapter, and I have no excuse, since the outline was laid long ago. But what can I say? Writer's block attacked and real life sent a legion of troops over, and I barely escaped unscathed. Please enjoy this chapter anyway, and thanks for all the reviews! Sebby plushies to all!!

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**III Chapter**

**Scarlet Letter  
**

**-**

"Hostage?" Sebastian's smile was still a winning one as he took the boy by the arm and led him into the upstairs sitting room. It was not as showy as the huge one he kept downstairs for entertainment purposes, this one...was a bit more intimate and private. The furniture kept here was only practical. A pair of couches, an armchair, and a coffee table. "I can't believe you're calling me a criminal, after all, I only offer you the best of what I have—which is more than many hostages can say about their captors, Phantomhive."

"You're impossible." Ciel griped, but he still lowered himself into an armchair. It was plush, and much more comfortable (he loathed to admit) than the chairs that the Madame kept back at her summer house. He sighed, looking up at his very smug host.

"So? What would you want with me, then? Lizzie is downstairs, come the end of the party and I'm not there, she will wonder."

Sebastian said nothing, only, he looked wholly amused. "No wonder she loves you so much." was what he chose to venture, after a couple of minutes ticked by, as he too, settled himself into a chair. "Please don't worry so much, I'll return you when the time comes. For the meantime, I must be content while you are mine."

Ciel crossed his legs neatly, right over left, and fiddled listlessly with the scarlet bow tied neatly around his collar.

"How eloquent you are."

"I try."

"I can tell." The sarcasm dripped from Ciel's voice like acid syrup.

At this, Sebastian chuckled and opened his mouth to say something else, but the Undertaker chose this unsuspecting moment to creep in upon the two of them to set a plate of sugar-sprinkled biscuits and tea on the table.

"Here you are, master. A snack for you, and your honorable guest." The Undertaker hid his giggles behind a ghastly white hand. "Please, enjoy."

"Just get out of here, Undertaker."

The Undertaker obeyed, still chuckling all too wisely to himself. Sebastian's glare was unwavering until the footsteps completely faltered.

"Don't mind him, Phantomhive, he means well."

Ciel looked uncertain, but he was hungry, having not eaten anything ever since the party started, since he was too busy sulky, he had failed to notice any of the delectable foods offered downstairs. The biscuits looked tempting. He took one, and after staring at it contemplatively, he took a bite. It was good, the sugar had a mild sweetness that melted on his tongue.

Sebastian was watching him carefully. "Good?"

Ciel nodded.

Silence ensued after that. Ciel chewed quietly on his biscuit and Sebastian just watched. At last, when Ciel licked the last of the crumbs from his fingertips, he looked at his host, "Why do you call him that?"

"Call who what?"

"Your butler, Undertaker. That's not a name."

Sebastian seemed to consider the question a long time before he answered, "He likes the name. I don't see any reason to take a name from him if he likes it." And that was all, for a long time, Sebastian said nothing again. He busied himself with tea—with good reason, Ciel discovered for himself a few moments later. The tea was not one he was familiar with, but it was good, expensive. Pity how the world saw the two words as replacements for each other.

"Cranberry lemon, freshly brewed from Thailand."

Ciel looked at him.

"Thailand?"

"Well, they're not really known for teas, I know that." Sebastian shrugged, "But it's not too horrible. Tell me, Phantomhive, do you play chess?"

Chess. Childish hobby it was, at least, Ciel deemed it so after the world as he knew it burned and left nothing but charred ashes for memory. "I used to play, but I hate chess, now. So no, not so much."

"It's not because you lack challenging opponents, _non_?"

Ciel looked at him, "I'd hardly think you're to make the competent opponent when you're too busy keeping wolves and practicing summoning demons in your basement."

If anything, Sebastian looked wholly amused, "I think it's the Undertaker that practices summoning in the basement. But as I don't see any demons floating around my mansion as of yet...I don't think he's quite successful yet."

"That's not very funny."

Sebastian shrugged, "Pardon, but I think it's funny." With that, he reached for another biscuit, "Since you're so sure that you can beat me, why don't we have a little bet?"

--

"The answer, is no."

"Whyever not?" Sebastian set the white king in place with a flourish. "It does add an interesting edge to the game, if you ask me. Without any modifications, chess gets abysmally dull."

Ciel ground his teeth, "This is vulgar, and completely unacceptable. You know that very well, detective." But for someone who looked down upon the game and degraded it so, he had a nice chess board. The pieces were even custom carved. Ciel could tell. "I"m not doing it, and it's stupid."

"So you're saying, that you're sure you'll lose to me, Phantomhive." Sebastian somehow managed to click his tongue and sip his tea at the same time, an impressive feat, really. "I'm disappointed, I must say, I expected more of you, with your name."

"I never lose." Ciel set his chin haughtily. It was true, he never lost. The only person that could beat him was currently unwilling cremated and serving an eternity's sentence in hell. "Especially not to a person like you. I just don't feel like taking off my clothes while I do it."

"Because it is vulgar?"

"And because such activities between men disgusts Her Majesty." Ciel supplied, but he doubted it would have any effect, since Sebastian Michaelis seemed devoid of any respect for anything...or anyone, for that matter.

"This isn't England, _monsieur_."

"I don't care." Ciel said.

"You can say what you'd like, but before you prove me otherwise, you are still a coward."

"Or, maybe I have enough respect for chess not to degrade it like you suggest?" Vaguely, Ciel remembered both his aunt and Lizzie going on about how handsome and courtly and cultured this Detective Sebastian Michaelis was. What a monster he was, and how wrong they were. Handsome, well, he guessed he could agree, Ciel could certainly see why Sebastian's eyes were the talk of Paris. Courtly...well, maybe he had a way with women? But men were another matter?

Cultured...after he had just so brutally assaulted one of England's most sacred games, heh, no.

"I'll play you by your rules once. If you insist." Ciel sat up and curled practiced fingers around a white pawn, prodded forward two spaces with a decisive clink. "Just don't throw a tantrum when you do lose, it's unsightly for someone your age."

--

For a chess player, Ciel decided that Sebastian Michaelis wasn't bad at all. Sometimes he made amateurish moves, but somehow, his pieces linked together to form an invisible wall. It was a playing style he'd never seen before, since his king was almost front and center—but impossible to get at. Which bothered Ciel a little, because he liked to think he knew the game like the back of his hand. And the fact that Sebastian, who looked down upon chess like he did, could manipulate the pieces in such a way that he himself had never even dreamed of...

"Where did you learn how to play chess?"

"Here and there." Sebastian replied with a shrug as he prodded his bishop four spaces to swipe Ciel's knight off of the board. "I'm not native to Europe, you know. And since chess is such a tradition, as you say, I picked it up from tavern folk, mostly."

That was one more thing to tell his aunt. Sebastian Michaelis was nowhere near the gentlemanly perfection everyone in the Parisian society made him out to be. He had done the unforgivable—bragged on the tavern folk when he was supposed to snub the very mention of them.

"Oh, and that reminds me, I'll have your cravat, Phatomhive."

Ciel stared down at the board in horror. He hadn't realized it, but in a flash, he had lost one knight, both of his bishops, and a couple of pawns. The pieces had cost him his boots, his socks, and now, his cravat. He found himself wishing that he wore gloves, Sebastian had only lost one glove, his right one.

"I don't know how to take it off." Ciel said, after a belated pause, feeling the rush of humiliation stain his cheeks.

"Because you're a spoiled brat that doesn't know any better."

"I don't have to take this from you, Detective." Ciel glared at him, but it wasn't as effective as it could have been.

But all Sebastian did was cross over to him in a few fluid steps and undid the cravat with practiced fingers.. "Sure you do, you agreed to this game with me."

"Only because you wouldn't shut up."

Ciel prodded his queen forward and knocked over a white knight. "I"ll have your left glove."

"You will not."

He almost felt like baring his teeth at the man, but Ciel held himself and just grinned at him instead. "I thought you wanted to play by your rules."

Sebastian looked highly unperturbed, "Pick something else, I'm not going to let you have my left glove."

"Why not?"

"Because I say so."

Ciel crossed his arms, "You're not playing very fair, Detective."

The smile that he received in return said he was a mere child, and Sebastian shrugged one shoulder, "Life's not fair."

It suddenly occurred to Ciel that Detective Michaelis was too close, only a few inches away, and he was almost sitting in the older man's lap. A silent shudder passed through him, and he scooted away, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. But he didn't get very far, as the couch was only so big.

"Scared of me?"

Yes, a little. But Ciel kept his head up, "Hardly." He gave the man a long hard stare, though of course, it hardly amounted to much."I want your cravat."

Sebastian's smile grew just a little bit sinister as he leaned close again, Ciel could smell cranberry lemon on his breath. He felt Sebastian guide his hand to the silken cravat that he wore and the knot loosened almost magically at his touch. Ciel's breathed hitched as Sebastian's breath tickled his lips.

"Take it then, it's all yours."

--

Kissing a man...was odd. Kissing Detective Sebastian Michaelis...was even more odd. But Ciel's thought didn't get any further than that because a knock sounded on the door. They sprang apart, with Ciel looking absolutely horrified, and Sebastian looking downright annoyed.

"Come in, Undertaker, what do you want?"

"Don't tell him to come in!" Ciel hissed, red-faced.

But the Undertaker wore no smile, not even a smirk, "Master, I think you might want to come downstairs. You too, _Monsieur_ Phantomhive."

--

Ciel was dangerously close to either vomiting or fainting, he couldn't tell which, and didn't want to do either. Vomiting was just unsightly (not to mention rude to your host—even if his opinion of the said host was quickly deteriorating) and fainting spells were for women. Thankfully, Sebastian's grip on his wrist was iron tight and the pain kept him alert.

A young girl in a stunning evening dress hung precariously from the chandelier. The Undertaker went ahead of them and then stopped, "I thought you might want to see this." He said as matter of factly, "To be honest, I'm quite impressed. I didn't even know this was here until some poor baroness wandered in looking for her fiancé. She had a spell, and the physician's tending to her. I supposed this is neither a sight fit for a lady nor fit for a lady in general. She's probably been dead for a couple of hours."

"And when the baroness walked in, she was already dead?"

Ciel swallowed thickly and leaned heavily against Sebastian. "Do I have to be here?"

"Yes." Sebastian replied shortly. "Did you call anyone?"

The Undertaker shrugged, "This is your precinct, detective, no matter how Commissioner West wants it to be otherwise, I didn't call anyone yet." His smile was a lopsided one as he lifted up the dead girl's skirt, revealing a pair of flawless porcelain thighs. There was a jagged L carved in blood.

"Besides, you know this better than anyone else, don't you, Detective?" The Undertaker's smile grew even more lopsided.

Ciel's eyes locked on the scar, until he couldn't look away at all. And then he didn't know anything else.

"Phantomhive!"


End file.
